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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25815088">Inner Demons</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anthracene/pseuds/Anthracene'>Anthracene</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Sex, Angst, Asphyxiation, Breathplay, Corruption, Creampie, Dark, Demons, Forced Orgasm, Gang Rape, Humiliation, Internalized Homophobia, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mind Break, Multiple Orgasms, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Other, Overstimulation, Unrequited Love</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 12:14:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,639</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25815088</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anthracene/pseuds/Anthracene</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In an old, abandoned station, a private investigator working to locate four missing men finds more than he bargains for.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Original Male Character/Demon, Original Male Character/Original Male Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>178</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Inner Demons</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was... quite the monster to write.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Within this month alone, there were already four missing persons cases piling up on Christian’s desk.</p><p>The profiles were all seemingly unrelated, as far as he could tell. The ages of the men ranged from 19 years old to 43, all of differing races and ethnicities. No common schooling between them, no common workplace, no organization they were all a part of. One of them hadn’t even lived here for very long, after moving in a month ago on his own. The only thread tying them to one another is that they were all men who had lived around the area prior to their disappearance. Each one had disappeared in succession to one another, with a new man missing every week. Just when Christian would be in the middle of his search for one, a brand new case would pop up on his desk—a brand new face declared to have been missing for at least 24 hours. </p><p>It was starting to get a little worrisome, even for him.</p><p>Christian was used to having to take two cases at a time every now and again. It was a pretty rare occurrence even then, but one he had no problem taking on when it happened. However, this was nothing like he had ever seen before. He had accepted these four cases anyways—even despite his inexperience working with that many at a time—because he was sure they were all leading towards something bigger. Something connected. </p><p>Finding it was just proving to be a little more than he expected, unfortunately.</p><p>He hovers his hand over his cell, pondering. Christian hated having to rely on information from the local police for his work. They don’t exactly bother to hide their displeasure for a private investigator “meddling” with their cases from him. As time went on, that feeling had only become pretty mutual between them. There was one person in the entire department that he trusted when it came to situations like these—an old friend he’s known since before he’s started this line of work. But after the department’s mishandling of a pretty infamous case two years back, even that had come to dissolve between them since.</p><p>He bites his lip. </p><p>This string of cases... was just tougher to crack than he had thought. And though he dreads the ensuing call he’s about to make, Christian isn’t really the type to be above putting his own wounded feelings aside. Not if it means that those missing will be returned home safe to their worried families, anyways. </p><p>After much deliberation and a quiet sigh, he gingerly picks up the device and dials the number from his memory. </p><p>One ring.</p><p>Two rings.</p><p>He considers bailing after the third ring, but a rough “Hello?” stops him from hanging up. Unsure of how to reply, he sits in silence waiting for the other person to speak again. </p><p>“Hello? Chris?”</p><p>Christian clears his throat. “... Noah.”</p><p>“Christian. Look, I uh, I just want—”</p><p>“I need information on a few cases,” he says, interrupting the officer mid sentence. “Recent missing persons cases.”   </p><p>Silence comes from the other end, broken by a soft intake of breath.</p><p>“Okay... You got any names for me?”</p><p>“Dominic Wright. Minh Huynh. Jose Castillo. Benjamin White.”</p><p>“Hold on.” </p><p>As Noah searched through the department’s records for these names, the wait on the other end was rather excruciating. After some time of Christian hearing the sounds of keys clicking and things being shuffled about, the officer on the other line eventually returns to the call with some helpful things on three of the four men. Pen and notepad in hand, the detective hurried to write down the few leads. </p><p>“... And that’s all we have so far, I'm afraid. We’ve not yet heard of a ‘Benjamin White’ from our records.” </p><p>Christian curtly thanked the officer for his time. Before he could finish with the call, however, it was now his turn to be interrupted.</p><p>“Wait, Chris. Before you go, please, hear me out,” Noah blurted out. “About what happened to Michael. You need to know I—”</p><p>
  <em> *Click* </em>
</p><p>Christian snaps his cell shut and flings it across his table, slamming it against the wall.</p><p>It’s been two years, and still the name never fails to set him off every time he hears it. No matter how much he throws himself into his work, how many people he successfully brings home, it’s never enough to let him let go. After all this time, neither the guilt behind the incident nor the nightmares surrounding it refuse to leave him—like permanent images that had long been seared into the retinas of his mind.</p><p>Noah, of all people... should understand that by now. </p><p>With a shake of his head, the detective opens his laptop. He types the new information he has into the search engine and busies himself with his work for hours once more.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>After two more days of working on the case, Christian finally reaches a breakthrough he needs. Somehow, all the trails seem to point towards an old abandoned subway station, located in the rough, southernmost part of the city. Even back in those days the place had seen better days, though it wasn’t until the city’s complete overhaul of routes and public transportation networks that people stopped using the station entirely. The locals nowadays are particularly wary of it due to the possibility of that place serving as a hub for strange, possibly criminal activity—activity which might explain the recent disappearances of these four men, if these cases are truly tied to this station.</p><p>Christian picks up his pen, notepad, and the cellphone he had flung against the wall days ago. He opens the device to four missed calls and three voicemails—all of which originating from the same exact number. </p><p>
  <em> Noah. </em>
</p><p>Without bothering to check them, he flips his cell shut and shoves it deep inside his pocket. There’s no time to dwell on hurt feelings when he has men to bring home to their families. He pulls out the Taser and Glock sitting in the drawer of his desk and places both in their respective hip holsters. After making sure he’s brought extra magazines along with him as well, Christian grabs his overcoat from near the entrance and locks the door on his way out.</p><p>The place is a bit of a drive from where he’s located in his office. As if the state of ruin was an uncontained poison emanating from the old station itself, even the areas around it had started to suffer similarly over the years. Traveling through this part of the city was like walking through a ghost town, with how deserted it seemed on most days of the week. With no one in sight, Christian doesn’t feel too bad about keeping his Taser in hand as he slowly approaches the station. </p><p>He takes the steep concrete steps down. The dank, musty passageway leading to the underground subway station was more akin to the winding tunnels of a pitch-black cave. Moss and fungi grew wildly in the corners where the water dripped from the pipes in the ceiling. The only light source here seemed to be the little bit of sunlight streaming from the top of the entrance, which was barely enough to make out what was five steps in front of him. It’s no surprise to him that the decrepit light fixtures overhead were as good as dead now, after having been abandoned by city officials for nearly a decade and a half. </p><p>Christian pulls out a flashlight from within his belt. He keeps it and his weapon pointed straight ahead as he walks, eyes and ears laser focused on anything that could clue him to the whereabouts of the missing four. </p><p>He must have walked for a good fifteen yards, cautiously exploring each of the branching passages, when suddenly the flashlight flickers. </p><p>“...What?”</p><p>He smacks the flashlight against the palm of his hand, to no avail. The light gives out completely, enveloping the detective in the suffocating darkness.</p><p>"Shit! Not here….”</p><p>Christian grits his teeth. He grips the Taser in his hands tighter, trying to calm the frantic pounding in his chest. He had thought he had more juice in those batteries to last him, but even he could admit it was reckless and out of character for him to not have prepared accordingly. He was just so blindsided by Noah’s calls, he must have been distracted this time around and forgotten.</p><p>And for that mistake, he was now stuck in the middle of a dark, abandoned subway station—with no way to get out on his own and no signal to call for help. </p><p>He’s brought out of his thoughts entirely when he feels a chill run down his spine. Despite being inside a structure located completely underground, it was as if a cold burst of wind had appeared out of nowhere and had brushed against his side. The feeling was so lifelike and strange on the surface of his skin, it almost felt like... something had <em> touched </em>him just now. </p><p>Christian shouted at the foreign sensation, swiveling his body around and pointing his Taser blindly. </p><p>“W-who’s there?!”</p><p>He feels a cold sweat breaking out as he feels a pair of eyes staring dead at him from within the abyss. Christian looks around, desperately trying to find anything his own eyes can focus on. </p><p>“Answer me!”</p><p>As his voice echoed through the empty passageways, the decades-old ceiling lights began to flicker to life, as if on command. With the lights now on, the investigator could see that, in his blind panic, he had ended up only a foot away from falling right into the tracks. Way too close, even if the trains themselves had long been decommissioned. He backs away slowly and looks around, when a figure from the corner of his eye catches his attention. </p><p>Christian spins around. What he thought was the sight of a man pointing a gun at him was instead his own bewildered expression, looking back at him through the dull surface of an old mirror. </p><p>A reflection. Nothing more. </p><p>He relaxes slightly, lowering his weapon though never letting go of it just yet. It certainly was strange, what a giant mirror was doing here of all places. Looking at it closely, he figures it must have been some sort of quirky art installment built into the walls, back in the days when this old station was still open. The glass of the mirror was dingy and cloudy from years of dust and city grime caked onto it, so much so that he figures it had not changed much since those days. </p><p>Taser still in hand, Christian approaches it slowly.</p><p>He’s curious in particular of his reflection’s visage. It’s strange; the man he sees in the mirror mimics him perfectly in all ways a reflection should... except for his face. Unlike the hardened, seriousness he was expecting to see reflected back, he instead sees a meek, timid expression approaching him from beyond the glass. </p><p>It was surreal—almost like watching an inexperienced child, trying his best to copy his actions without fully committing to the act. </p><p>“... Huh?” </p><p>Out of nowhere, Christian stops dead in his tracks, a few feet away from the wall. Frozen. He attempts taking a step back when he couldn’t move forward, but quickly realizes that it's his legs that refuse to budge from the ground. </p><p>“Why can’t I…?”</p><p>Confused, he looks to his own feet for an explanation. When he finds none, he looks back in the mirror to find his reflected self standing over a large, pitch-black puddle that he certainly hadn’t noticed before. He tries to pry his legs off the floor in vain, and watches his reflection struggle to do the same from beyond the glass. With each unsuccessful attempt, panic quickly rises more and more in his throat.</p><p>“W-what’s going on?? Why can't I move?!” </p><p><em> 「 </em> <em> It is because this is your soul I have here in the mirror, Detective. </em> <em> 」 </em></p><p>A ghastly, disembodied voice answers him out of nowhere. Though it sounds like no living thing he’s ever heard of in his life, the voice rang loud and clear inside his skull, as if the speaker had a direct line to his brain. If it wasn’t so eerie and out of place, he might have convinced himself that he had made it all up just now. </p><p>“Who are you?!” Christian shouts, frantically looking around for the source of the voice. “Show yourself…!!”</p><p>The voice chuckled in his head. At this, the tar-like substance on his reflection’s feet slowly began to move—slithering up his counterpart’s legs, creeping along his waist, his body, until he was wrapped in wiry, black tendrils from neck to toe. And though Christian himself could not see any sign of it on his own person, he could swear it was <em>his</em> <em>body</em> that the strange black substance was crawling on, undulating and slurping away on bare flesh despite the layers of clothing he had on him.  </p><p>No. Not his body. </p><p>This intrusive sensation, whatever it was… <em> it went far beyond the flesh. </em></p><p><em> 「 </em> <em> You look absolutely delectable, Detective. Simply ravishing. I believe I will enjoy having a little taste of your soul like this, right before I devour you whole. </em> <em> 」 </em></p><p>A sharp pain takes over his entire being. Christian finds it hard to breathe, suddenly—as if the air from his lungs had been forcibly squeezed out from the inside. Gazing into the mirror, he could see the pitch-black substance undulating. Slowly, painfully, they melt away the clothes until his reflected self stood all but naked before him. </p><p>By the end of it, Christian himself had fallen on trembling hands and knees, panting harshly through his teeth.</p><p><em> 「 </em> <em> Your soul is the purest, most concentrated part of you. It is the very essence of your being. Anything I would do to your soul, you will feel across your own flesh ten times over. </em> <em> 」 </em></p><p>He doesn’t pretend to understand the existence of this...<em> presence </em> speaking to him. What it’s supposed to represent, or even what it’s done to his body just now. He’s not even sure he believes that it was his soul he was seeing there, trapped in this mirror. All Christian knew is that his “reflection” had no longer become a simple image of his reflected self—and that the process of getting there had hurt him terribly somehow. </p><p>He notices his Taser, far out of reach across the floor. Focusing on the mirror, Christian instead reaches for the Glock in his other holster. Just before he could brush his fingers against the grip, however, something causes him to collapse headfirst into the ground. </p><p>Moaning.</p><p><em>「 </em><em>There, now… That feels much better now, does it not? </em><em>」</em>the voice laughed. <em>「 </em><em>Do not worry, Detective. There is no need to fight this. It will only get better from here. </em><em>」</em></p><p>His nipples… Up until that point, Christian would have never imagined his nipples could be such an erogenous, sensitive part of his own body like that. He had never felt anything quite like the sensations he had felt just now—gliding, pulling, stretching across his nipples. Despite seeing nothing on his own person, it felt as if something wet and slimy had latched on to his chest and sucked <em> hard </em>in just the right ways, lighting up all of his pleasure receptors at once. </p><p>For a part of him so small, it was insane just how good it had made him feel.</p><p>“S-stop it… Fuck, stop…! Let me go!”</p><p>The pitch-black sludge continued. With its long, wiry tendrils, it teased and tweaked and sucked on his reflection’s nipples, until Christian was a writhing mess on the floor. In the mirror, he could see his own counterpart—no, <em> his soul— </em>squirming helplessly against the touch. Trembling and moaning openly, even he couldn’t help the little abortive jerks he makes, pushing his chest out further and further towards the sloppy, wet tendrils. </p><p><em>「 </em><em>Stop? Why, just take a look at yourself right now, Detective.</em> <em>Take a good look at how much you truly enjoy this. Does this look like the face of someone who wants to stop? Does this look like the body of someone who wants to stop? </em><em>」</em></p><p>Christian shook his head. His…  soul... had on the most wanton, <em> debauched </em>expression he had ever seen grace a person’s face. He could feel his own painful erection growing in his pants, twitching to life and straining against his boxers untouched—all from this perverse reflection of himself being assaulted beyond the glass. Stripped completely bare, toyed with against his will... and made to enjoy every minute of it. Between the sight of it and the actual stimulation bombarding his senses, he feels very close to losing his mind.</p><p>… Is <em> this </em>what had happened to the others? Are they still alive somewhere in this station, trapped here after facing a similar fate? He still didn’t even know what this thing was, let alone how to stop it. </p><p>But he knew he had to get out of here. </p><p>He had to endure it somehow.</p><p>He had to finish what he came here to do, and bring the missing men home to their families.</p><p><em> 「 </em> <em> Ever the dutiful public servant, Detective. Even when you can’t save your own soul from absolute corruption, you still think of the others. Well, if you are certain you'd be able to, why don’t you go and take care of them right here for me? </em> <em> 」 </em></p><p>To his right, he could see the naked figures of four men approaching him. Their heights, their ethnicities, their physical descriptions… were all a perfect match to the men in his files.</p><p>Dominic Wright. </p><p>Minh Huynh. </p><p>Jose Castillo. </p><p>Benjamin White.</p><p>It was all four of the missing men he was looking for, right here before him. And each one was slowly shambling towards him, like zombies to fresh meat.</p><p><em> 「 </em> <em> You look surprised, Detective. Is this not what you wanted? You have successfully found all four of the missing men, long before anyone in that incompetent police department was able to do so. For that you should be proud, Christian. </em> <em> 」 </em></p><p>He flinches upon hearing his own name uttered back to him. His thoughts, his emotions, his memories… Christian realized right then and there that this <em> thing </em> was capable of reading them <em> , </em> whenever and however it pleased. A sinking feeling grew at the pit of his stomach at this revelation. He knew now that he could not plan to escape—could not plan to do anything, really—unless the tar-like sludge willed it of him. No matter what he did, he would always be one step behind for this reason.</p><p>The disembodied voice chuckled lightly, as if to both confirm and agree with this assessment.</p><p>“Please...” Christian whispered, doing his best to keep the trembling away from his voice as he spoke. He still had to try something, even if he knew the situation was hopeless. “Let these people go. I’ll do anything. Take my soul, do what you want with me… but please set them free in my place.” </p><p><em> 「 </em> <em> A trade? You wish to barter with me? </em> <em> 」 </em></p><p>Boisterous laughter fills his head. He could not even hear himself think over the booming, inhuman sound that reverberated in his mind. The sheer force of it alone was so powerful, it was enough to rattle his own skull—so much so that Christian’s head hurt just from listening to it. </p><p><em> 「 </em> <em> I believe you misunderstand your own importance, Detective. Come. Let me teach it to you properly, so that you may never forget your place here. </em> <em> 」 </em></p><p>The four men start to close in on him. Christian’s protests and attempts to reason with them fell on deaf ears as they wordlessly tore his clothes off his body. His coat, his shoes, his socks, his shirt––one by one, they were carelessly shredded and tossed aside, until he was left as bare naked as his soul in the mirror. </p><p>“D-Dominic… Minh, Benjamin, Jose…! Snap out of it!!”</p><p>He felt powerless. He couldn’t understand why his body remained there, unmoving, as if his muscles were all rooted in place. He could shake his head, push them away, but somehow was utterly helpless to get up and run from the quickly escalating situation. </p><p>As they surrounded him, it was all Christian could do to cover himself with his hands, terrified.  </p><p>“No! Don’t…!!” </p><p><em> 「 </em> <em> It is futile. Words will not reach them, for they are but husks who no longer possess a soul to hear them with. They are empty vessels, for me to do with as I please. </em> <em> 」 </em></p><p>Christian gasps as he feels the substance move. Amidst all of the tendrils undulating at once, a number of them creep along down his soul’s body. They slither—past his back, his torso—until they found themselves intertwined tightly around his cock. Wrapped around his shaft, the slimy tendrils spring back and forth in tandem, pumping his cock to hardness within a matter of a few seconds. One of them slithers even further to the tip—where it latches on and sucks at the head of his prick, to match the ones on each of his nipples. </p><p>“Stop…. F-fuck, please, please, make it stop…!”</p><p>Christian’s hands fell to his sides as he arched back, lost in this extreme pleasure. His hips buck up fruitlessly, chasing the phantom sensations he could not see on his own body. Shivers ran through his entire frame as his cock twitched wildly, drooling precum onto his abdomen with each tug to his chest, each rub against sensitive skin. His body tenses all over—all wound up and raw from the unending stimulation.</p><p>God, it’s so much. Too much, <em> too much… </em></p><p><em> 「 </em> <em> Take a good look at them all you’d like, Detective. These four missing men you wished so desperately to find. Once I finish devouring your soul, this blind obedience to lust will be all that is left of you as well. </em> <em> 」 </em></p><p>Preoccupied by the tendrils, the detective could do nothing to protect himself from the four men surrounding him. The oldest, Jose, pries his mouth open with ease, while the other three hold him upright on his knees. Jose wedges his thumbs between his upper and lower molars, digging his rough fingers behind the hinge of his jaw and preventing Christian from dislodging him or biting down even if he wanted to. </p><p>“Nnn, nnhh…!”</p><p>He brusquely slides his thick, uncut cock inside of Christian’s mouth. The man was only about to shove two-thirds of himself down before the detective started to gag, fighting to draw back with tears in his eyes. Despite his constant squirming, however, Jose firmly holds him in place by his hair. Bit by bit, he wrenches Christian’s head further down, choking him with his fat prick until he had buried himself to the hilt—where Jose holds him still for quite some time. Savoring him. He relishes the way the detective’s tight throat spasmed around him, desperately trying to dislodge his cock as he struggled for air. </p><p><em> 「 </em> <em> Enjoying ourselves, are we Detective? On your knees pleasing men, where you truly belong. Finally being honest with your body and its intentions, for once. </em> <em> 」 </em></p><p>Christian whimpers around the dick in his mouth as Jose starts to thrust earnestly. Between the fast, brutal throatfucking and the stimulation from the tendrils, he knew he couldn’t last much longer like this. His head felt light and fuzzy. His knees chafed red against the dirty tile floor. He couldn’t help the tears running down his cheeks, nor the precum dripping down his thighs. Were it not for Jose’s hands holding his mouth open and the men holding him in place, he would’ve certainly fell face first onto the ground already. </p><p><em> 「 </em> <em> That’s it. Give in to it, Detective. Drown in the sinful pleasures you’ve denied yourself all your life. </em> <em> 」 </em> </p><p>Overwhelmed and out of oxygen, the detective trembled as he finally came from Jose’s cock—spilling himself onto the filthy station floor.</p><p>Jose pulls out of his throat, just in time before he could pass out. With the older man no longer supporting his head with his hands, the detective’s body crumples onto his side. Christian heaves as he shudders in deep breaths, chest aching badly as he coughs on lungfuls of air at a time. Above him, the older man grunts as he strokes himself off. He sprays sticky, white seed on his face and neck when he’s done, finishing all over him. </p><p><em>「 </em><em>Amazing. Your very first orgasm with a man, and it was from merely pleasuring him with your mouth. </em><em>」</em> The ghoulish voice erupted in laughter again, taunting him. <em>「 </em><em>Well, how do we feel now, Detective? How does it feel to have fallen so low and partake in this forbidden pleasure? Was it every bit as delightful as you had dreamed? </em><em>」</em></p><p>A quiet sob slips past Christian’s lips. Once the haze of the orgasm had passed, there was only the realization of his depravity left to hit him like a truck. He was reeling—feeling nothing but the ache in his jaw, the bile rising in the back of his throat, and the sick, twisted feeling in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to throw up. No amount of the station’s dirt and grime could make him any filthier than he had already felt after the fact, after having debased himself so shamelessly. The taunting words he heard in his head had only cemented those facts into him. </p><p>He had tried so hard to deny that part of him. That unacceptable, inconceivable, <em> perverse </em> part of him that utterly sickens him to his core. </p><p>To have all of that effort undone, in such a shameful way... </p><p><em> 「 </em> <em> Oh, yes, </em> <em> 」 </em> the voice mused. <em> 「 </em> <em> I know all about those sinful, perverse feelings you tried to bury inside you all these years. Though why you would do such a thing to yourself, even I cannot imagine. They came to a head right around when you had worked with that handsome partner of yours, hadn’t they? </em> <em> 」 </em></p><p>No. </p><p><em> 「 </em> <em> Who now… ‘Michael’, was it? </em> <em> 」 </em></p><p>No. No. No.</p><p>As if it hadn’t been satisfied with merely humiliating him, the monster was now laying bare his bleeding heart out in the open. Old wounds he had carefully buried over time were now splintering, festering inside of him as they were carelessly reopened. In the mirror, he could see the look of pure sorrow and agony stricken in his soul’s face. </p><p>“Stop... it…”</p><p><em> 「 </em> <em> Such a pity you held yourself back for this long. All of those feelings, those delicious, forbidden feelings for him. It fueled you, didn't it? It was the flames that warmed the freezing depths of your heart. It kept you going like no other. </em> <em> 」 </em> </p><p>He watches in horror as tiny cracks begin to form from within his counterpart’s body. He was… fracturing, little by little, under the soul-crushing weight of the monster’s truths. With each crack that appears on his soul, a hundred glass shards embed themselves right inside his chest. </p><p><em> 「 </em> <em> But alas. Thanks to the incompetence of others, there’s nowhere left for them to go. Michael is no more. Law enforcement suffers not for their mistakes. And you? </em> <em> 」 </em> the voice asked him, sneering. <em> 「 </em> <em> You are left alone to rot in your misery. Forever to drown in these unrequited regrets for all eternity. </em> <em> 」 </em></p><p>At that moment, something strange began to happen from beyond the glass. The tar-like substance all started to gather together in one place. Each of the tendrils covering his soul’s body retracted back, thickening and coagulating into one solid mass. </p><p><em> 「 </em> <em> Playing the hero. ‘Protecting’ others. What wonderful guises to hide under, aren’t they Detective? A clever way to distract—to deny and run away from your true feelings all you’d like. </em> <em> 」 </em></p><p>A pair of strong, olive brown arms. A torso. Long, lean legs, and a mop of dark brown hair. Slowly, Christian watched the amorphous puddle of sludge transform, changing in color and taking a more familiar shape. </p><p>A more <em> human </em> form. </p><p><em>「 </em><em>But to deny one’s true feelings is to deny the voice of one’s soul.</em> <em>You poor, poor thing. For how long had you left your soul to cry unanswered, Detective…? </em><em>」</em></p><p>“Stop!!” </p><p><em> 「 </em> <em> If you continue to refuse the screaming in your soul... </em> <em> 」 </em></p><p>“... then I guess I’ll have to do it for you.”</p><p>Christian shouts. He shuts his eyes, refusing to look any further at the abomination taunting him in the mirror. </p><p>“Hey, open your eyes, Chris.”</p><p>That voice. That smile. It can’t be. </p><p>“Come on, don’t you remember? It’s me, your partner.”</p><p>That’s… </p><p>This is… </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Michael. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“... no… please..….” </p><p>Christian couldn’t bear to look at it. Couldn’t bear to understand it. If this monster… this <em> demon… </em> had wanted his soul, then why haven’t they devoured it already by now? What was the point of subjecting him through all this? </p><p>“No? But why not? There’s no need to lie to me anymore, Chris,” “Michael” grins. He lifts his soul up from off the ground, standing him upright from beyond the mirror. In a mocking parody of a lover’s embrace, “Michael” wraps his arms possessively around his counterpart’s waist.</p><p><em> “I already know, you know?” </em> </p><p>Christian shudders, looking away. This was the very first time since encountering the mirror that he saw his reflection forced to move independently of his own body. The dissonance of such a thing was just as strange on his body as it was to see with his own eyes. </p><p>Besides that, however, he averts his eyes more out of spite—refusing to acknowledge the abomination wearing Michael’s face.</p><p>“Mm… Don’t be like that, Chris. I’ve seen the way you look at me out there, you know,” “Michael” muses, smiling. “The way you blush when I wrap my arm around your shoulder. The way your eyes <em> beg </em> me to pin you down, and fuck you on our office desk. Did you think I'd never notice, all this time? Did you think I’d never figure it out?”</p><p>The four men around him start closing in on him once again. This time, they have him on his back, legs forcefully spread apart in such a way that his body is neatly folded in half. Two of them, Jose and Dominic, are content to restrain him by the back of his thighs. While they hold him down, Benjamin wipes his body clean with his fingers. He scoops the half-dried spunk from his face, his neck, his stomach, and the grimy floor, gathering it all in his middle and index fingers before sliding them inside him. The teenager, Minh, kneels next to Benjamin as he takes Christian’s cock into his mouth. </p><p>“Don’t...! No, s-stop!!”</p><p>In the mirror, “Michael” pulls his soul in for a kiss. Lips and tongues grind against one another in a heated passion as “Michael” plunders his mouth. As he kisses him, he slams his counterpart back towards the glass of the mirror and raises his legs atop his shoulders. Christian could feel “Michael” independently of the four men, carefully lining himself up and pressing against his entrance before thrusting inside in one swift motion.</p><p>“I’m going to give your body what it’s been begging for its entire life.”</p><p>Both Benjamin and “Michael” coordinate their movements together, such that their thrusts complement and move in tandem with one another. As Benjamin scissored his fingers inside him, spreading them against his tight, virgin passage and curling them with the utmost dexterity and precision, “Michael” would pin his counterpart against the mirror, impaling him with sheer vigor and brute strength. The demon would relentlessly drive his thick girth inside him, deeper and harder than was ever humanly possible, while the human would mercilessly tease him with his fingers, nudging against a spot that had his whole body melting in his hands. </p><p>Together they were a terrifying pair—fucking Christian senseless and filling him to the brim, until there was nothing left of him they haven’t claimed. </p><p>“Gnnghh…. haahh…… noo….”</p><p>The detective could only lay helpless on his back, gasping shallowly and writhing on the filthy station floor. He could not move to escape—not without bucking his hips forward into Minh’s mouth, or back onto Benjamin’s fingers. With nowhere to go, his arms scrabble uselessly with each thrust, hands clenching and unclenching at the floor as if trying to grab onto something. He felt so unbelievably full, split in two from having both Benjamin and “Michael” in him, that even drawing air into his lungs became a challenge. </p><p>“Feels good, doesn’t it?” “Michael” whispers, breathless. He licks a wet stripe down his counterpart’s neck, planting a kiss at the base of his collarbone. “It must feel really good, after all this time. Oh, poor thing. How long have you wanted to do this with me, Chris? We’ve only just started and you’re <em> dripping </em> already.”</p><p>Christian shakes his head. He doesn’t have to look at the mirror or down at himself to know that what “Michael” says of him is true. Despite having just come not too long ago, his traitorous cock was already hard yet again, twitching in time to the thrusts, in time to the filth “Michael” murmurs in his ears. It was as if his body couldn’t tell the difference—that this was <em> not </em> his Michael—and was just happy to see some semblance of his own sick fantasies played out before him.</p><p>“Fuck… I’m gonna come inside of you, Chris. Gonna have you milk me dry as I give this greedy little hole of yours all that it needs. I’ll breed you up so good, fill you up so much.” </p><p>He’s falling in and out of consciousness. It was hard not to, with how overwrought and exhausted his body was, stretched to its limits for this long. Everything blurs together after a while, and he’s no longer aware of much outside of his basest sensations: the lips around his cock, the press of fingertips against his prostate. A third man had also joined the fray, kneeling in front of his head and inserting himself into his mouth. Christian could only moan as he felt him in the back of his throat, relishing the familiar sensation of being choked on cock once again. </p><p>He was dimly aware of what would happen to him once this was all over—that his soul would inevitably disappear, becoming fodder for the demon, while his body would become yet another puppet for him to play with. His soul was falling apart—fracturing faster than ever, with new cracks littering the skin of his body while the previous ones deepened in their severity. Overshadowed by the pleasurable sensations, however, he could hardly even feel it happening. </p><p>He knew there was nothing he could do to stop this. </p><p>He’s not even sure he wants to anymore.</p><p>“Mm… that’s right,” Michael murmurs, soft against his ear. Michael had his soul on his knees, face down and moaning obscenely as he thrusts into him with reckless abandon. The sight of it alone was enough to make Christian’s cock twitch. </p><p>“There isn’t anything you could do but accept this. Accept me, Chris. Stay with me. We’ll become one together, and you won’t ever have to feel lonely anymore. I’ll be by your side, forever.”</p><p>Michael...</p><p>Together… with Michael… </p><p>Christian is so tired of fighting—fighting against himself, fighting against his desires. The loneliness and heartache eating away at him had become such a routine part of his life for so long, he almost doesn’t even remember what it’s like to not have to fight against his heart.   </p><p>But Christian doesn’t want to keep hurting anymore. </p><p>He just wants to be by Michael’s side again… </p><p>“Michael…!”</p><p>He cries out his name as they both reach climax at the same time. Christian moans, tightening around Michael as he spills himself onto the floor. He clenches around his cock as it fucks him through his orgasm, pumping load after hot, sticky load inside of him. Shuddering, he held onto both of Michael’s hands in each of his own, fingers interlaced in one another’s embrace. He smiles as Michael kisses his shoulder blades with the mind-numbing gentleness he had always dreamed of.  </p><p>“Michael… I love you, Michael…”</p><p> </p><p>Before his vision turns black, the last thing Christian sees beyond the glass was the figures of four strangers, ravaging the crumpled body of a man lying lifeless on the ground. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>It’s been roughly a month since Christian had last called him. </p><p>Even if they weren’t exactly what he would call “close” anymore, Noah could not help but worry over him as if they were. He knew that a profession like theirs carried with them a fair amount of risk. With or without the help of a whole department behind your back, there was always a real danger of heading out on the job one day and never coming back. He knew for as long as he had known the man that Christian was not the sociable type either, and that he had very few friends to look out for him even back in the day. But, most importantly, he knew on a personal level that Christian had not been the same these past few years since the incident. Knowing how poorly it had been handled, and just how much of the responsibility of that incident lies squarely within his police division, Noah couldn’t help but to carry the guilt and blame for what had happened to Michael on his own shoulders. </p><p>Seeing his old friend suffer for it, even now... it only weighs on his own conscience all the more. </p><p>Noah had attempted to call a few more times after that. He had hoped Christian would be willing to hear him out, after giving him some time to cool off since the last one. When each call inevitably went to the answering machine day by day, Noah had left a total of three voicemails before deciding to give a rest and allowing him to contact him back at his own pace. He didn’t feel right doing it through the avenue of voicemail, but he had left Christian a sincere apology as well, just in case. </p><p>Expecting the possibility that he may never receive an answer back, Noah can at least live knowing that he had apologized properly to his friend.</p><p>So when he receives a call at six in the morning, right before he was set to leave for work that day, Noah could hardly believe it was even Christian on the other line. </p><p>“Hello? Christian?”</p><p>“Hey. I got your voicemails, Noah… and I want to talk. But, something happened and I’m stranded here at the moment.”</p><p>“Well, where are you right now?” Noah asks, frowning. “What happened?”</p><p>“No, I’m okay. I’d just… I was looking for leads, and I got stuck as I came up empty on one.”</p><p>He sighs, relieved that it was nothing too bad. A call at six in the morning could have spelled out bigger trouble, but for the most part it seems that his friend was alright.</p><p>“Hey, I do want to talk though. Really. Come to the abandoned train station, south side of the city. We can talk more later, once you’re here. Thanks.”</p><p>Before Noah could ask any more questions, Christian had hung up. </p><p>The officer picks up his keys and heads out the door. Though he knows he’s going to be missing a bit of work for this, he was just thankful that Christian was safe and, even better, willing to talk to him again. </p><p>This was the beginnings of a fresh start. An important start. From here they could start a meaningful conversation together, and maybe slowly work towards putting this all behind them restoring their broken friendship. </p><p>Noah drives towards the old station, full of hope.  </p><p> </p><p>After this, his old friend wouldn’t have to be suffering alone anymore. </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hope you enjoyed reading! This was the first fic I've ever co-written with my husband, the lovely AnthraceneHusbando. Let me know your thoughts in the comments down below, or at my Tumblr: https://mothballs-and-benzene.tumblr.com/</p></blockquote></div></div>
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